The Man You Made Me
by wildatheartfan
Summary: Rax oneshot : x


**The Man You Made Me**

Max yanked open the heavy door to the apartment block and began to climb the stairwell inside. Only two flights of stairs he'd have to climb before reaching the floor he lived on, they lived on. He shook his head at the thought.

"Hello" a voice broke his thoughts and he looked up to see the old lady who lived on the floor below coming down the steps ahead of him.

"Hi" Max smiled back at her

"How are you?" She asked kindly as they both stopped on the same step.

"Yeah good thanks" he lied "you?"

"Not bad dear. How's your wife? I presume she's back here now?"

"Erm no she's still away" Max swallowed

"Really?" she was taken aback "she's been away for a long time now, it must be a terrible problem she's having to deal with"

"Yeah" he sighed

"Well, I'm sure she'll be back soon" she touched Max's arm lightly in comfort and smiled

"I'm sure" Max lied again

They said their goodbyes and Max continued up the stairs trying not to yell in rage as he went. Instead he stomped his way out into the hallway and jammed his keys into the lock of the apartment and entered, slamming the door behind him.

Max's eyes wandered the room before him. It's perfection. Everywhere he looked it was neat and tidy and perfect. As if it was waiting for Rosie to walk in, which it was. Months Max had spent keeping the place the way she liked it, hoping and waiting for the day she would walk back in.

The day hadn't come.

Yet.

Max shook his head as it dawned on him that the day wouldn't come. All this waiting around for her but it wasn't actually going to happen was it? She wasn't coming back.

Max could feel his body tense up all over. The realisation was hitting him and it didn't bode well. In a rush of rage and emotion he yelled out into the empty air before him.

He stormed over to the table and pushed the magazines that had been sat their neatly for months onto the floor. He turned and saw the photos stuck on the fridge door, again they were hurled onto the floor and Max continued as he went round the room.

He shouted and yelled, banging the wall with his fist. A glass smashed, boxes crashed to the floor, doors and drawers slamming open and shut as Max continued to release the anger that had built up inside of him.

"I hate you!" He screamed out "hate you!"

Silence answered him.

"Argh!" he yelled out once more making his way into the bedroom. He opened drawers and started to pull out clothes, initially it was just what was left of hers until he ran out of things and did the same to his. Throwing them round the room, purposefully treading on them as he moved. He hated her. Hated her.

"Why?" Max shouted

Everything about her he hated.

Max hated her for even letting him fall in love with her. Hated her for the pure reason that he had completed her, how beautiful she was, how charming and funny. Everything any stranger could love about her, he now hated. Why why was she so perfect? Why did she make his life so perfect? he hated her.

She'd made him wait, made Max believe that she was coming back. He hated her for putting him through the pain of waiting and trusting her. It was all lies.

The lies she'd made him tell as a result. Lying to people, putting up a front, pretending everything was fine on the outside, telling neighbours she'd simply gone home to sort out a family issue when infact the issue was in their very own home. It was beyond an issue. It was just life now. Max had to carry on living with it whilst she was able to escape.

He hated her for controlling him. Telling him what to do when and where, he hated her for letting himself happily going along with it and not caring that she always got the better of him.

And now she'd made him hate himself. He hated himself for believing they would spend the rest of their lives together, that she was his soul mate, his best friend. And now she'd gone, and ruined his life, he hated her.

Max stumbled round the flat finding the shoes he'd torn off his feet in the rage, he stuffed his feet into them and searched the floor for the keys he'd also dropped. His fists were still clenched, he hammered the sofa as he yelled.

Max left the apartment once more, running down the stairs until he found himself back out in the cool air. Not sure of where he was heading he turned into the street and pounded down it.

He wore a face of anger, a stranger seeing him would move out the way to let him pass, he wasn't appearing a friendly face. His eyes were narrowed, shoulders hunched, hands stuffed into his pockets. His mind was distracted.

Whilst the anger and hurt continued to circle him, Max found himself in a small supermarket. He headed to the counter.

"How can I help you?" A young girl behind the till asked. Max ignored her, something else had caught his eye.

Max sauntered over to the display shelf and picked up the bunch of celery, he turned back to the girl and placed it on the counter.

"and a packet of Malboro" he mumbled

"erm sure" the girl replied, frowning at his purchases.

Max handed her the change before she even had a chance to tell him the cost.

"Keep the change" he muttered further grabbing the celery and cigarettes and leaving the shop.

He walked back out onto the street and continued to pace down it.

"Fuck" he whispered realising he didn't have a lighter on him "fuck"

Max continued down the street, asking any innocent bystander if they had a lighter. Eventually he found a group of teenagers who agreed to light his cigarette. He inhaled it deeply. Closing his eyes and relishing the taste.

Max blew it out.

"you alright mate?" One of the teenagers asked him, batting the smoke away from his face.

Max nodded "cheers" he rounded the corner and found a wall to lean against as he drew in another lot of smoke.

He tilted his head to the sky as he felt the smoke surround his lungs, his body. It cooled him, release some of the strain that encompassed him. He relished in the fact that he could smoke. She wouldn't be on his receiving end having a go at him or even preventing him completely from smoking. That's how she controlled him, she wouldn't let him do anything, everything had to be her way. It was as if she trapped him, and managed to cover it through her incredible charm. He hated her for it.

She'd ruined his life. Completely.

"selfish" Max muttered thinking about her. She was selfish, taking everything from him, any love they shared she'd messed it up. Anything he had done wrong he hated himself for it but he hated her more.

He kicked the wall behind him at the thought.

As he took a final drag of the cigarette he stood up properly and turned to head home. Why he wanted to go home he had no idea. It wasn't even a home anymore, it wasn't a nice place, just full of anger and broken hearts.

Max chucked the cigarette into the gutter as he walked. He could really do with another but he wasn't in the mood to put up with grumpy strangers not helping him out. It was as if the whole world had turned against him. Everyone. All because his wife had left him, torn him up.

What had he done wrong? Nothing. Nothing apart from letting her go and not standing up to her and making her stay, everything else was her wrong doing.

"Hope you suffer" Max muttered wishing the worst upon her. It was only fair, he'd gone through enough suffering, enough of the picking up the pieces, lying and wearing a false smile on her face.

Alright for her, she'd swanned off back to her Dad where life was perfect and everyone was happy and would be on her side.

Max almost missed the doorway back into the apartment block so wrapped up in his thoughts. He let himself in and back up the stairs til he found himself at his door.

He walked in and went straight for the drawer that his lighter had lived in. Max put another cigarette to his mouth and lit it.

It was only then, as he waved the smoke out of an open window that he realised the celery that still lay in his tight grasp.

He laughed hardly at the thought, smoke covering his face.

"Fucking celery" he mumbled. He didn't know what he'd do with it, all he knew was how much she hated it. How she could smell it from a mile off. Just the thought of buying it made him feel free again, as if he was doing it just to get back at her. Paying her back for all the trouble she'd caused.

"Definitely not coming back now" he sighed.

Max looked around the room. The mess and things that now covered the floor. It was no longer the happy home it once was. Nor was the air filled with laughter and good conversation. Time had changed, life had changed. Max knew it would never be the same.

He stubbed out his cigarette and went to pick up some of the things he'd thrown on to the floor.

Cushions, books, her post that he'd piled up neatly for her.

Worn out Max collapsed onto the sofa and stared at the wall infront of him. The photo that adored the wall, the face that smiled back at him.

His insides gave way to all the tension that had existed. He bit his lip as he looked longingly at her face.

The surroundings caught his eye once more, the mess the lack of her touch. The scattered cigarettes that lay across the table, empty beer bottles. Max looked back to her face, his own expression began to crumple, his eyes moist.

He was broken. He was not the same. He would never see her again, and for that reason he still hated her. Max had lost her.

He wiped the tears that had accumulated on his cheek but couldn't help but crumble, at the man he had become.

**Reviews most welcome. Emily x**


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